though the fact that they were terrible did not mean that they were necessarily truthful

by valentinestavrou

there it is,
a blink lasting less that a fraction of a section
in the green eyes of a man
askingwhat are you
the question mark as big as the pine tree
at the edge of the village
i had walked in just like daddy had taught me,
remember you belong here,on every piece of this island
yet
my confidence breaks into silent apologies
as i lower my green eyes
trying to remember how we ask for coffee
in turkish
i mumble merhaba my thick accent
screaming SOUTH, SHE’S FROM THE SOUTH.
the green eyes smile
and ask σκέττο, μέτριο, γλυκό;
and i feel the land welcoming me
reminding me
that we come from jasmine&rosewater&coffee&almond blossom
&orange trees&sun&sea salt
that we are a people
that know what
cok
means.